The Definition of Owen Harper
by DayDreamDaisy
Summary: Owen's having trouble with accepting what he is. Dead. And it's been taking a toll on him and his team members. But after an encounter with a ghostly woman called Jane in a pub he starts to see how lucky he really is.


**Set after 'Dead Man Walking' **

**My first fic so please read and review, be nice ;)**

**I don't own Torchwood or anything to do with it sadly, but the BBC does. So there you have it!**

**Anyway, carry on reading!**

Owen Harper was sitting in a comfy Sunday afternoon feel to it pub full of happy chatterings about football results, birthdays, holidays, the usual. But Owen heard none of it, instead he was lost in his thoughts, you could say he was dead to the world. Literally.

This sort of pub at this sort of time was not Owen usual scene, no; normally he wouldn't be out till the late evening at his favourite bar with his favourite type of people, women. Although he had tried to go back to said bar it just felt wrong, he'd tried others but again he just felt left out and out of place. Trying to return back to normal seemed to be what everyone was telling him to do and to be but c'mon how could he ever? The darkness... He shook his head. Normalcy was the opposite of what he wanted, he was dead! D-e-a-d. Dead. And yet he was trying to be _normal. No-one understands and they never will be able to _Owen thought pityingly to himself.

Usually when someone appears sad another person comes to cheer them up, friends or strangers it happens. In this pub no-one had come to sit with Owen to cheer him, granted he preferred the type of cheering at his bars but that was a thing of the past. Owen sighed. Not even the plump jolly bar maid was giving him a "Cheer up love". What did he need? A sign over his head?

Instead he checked his phone, No messages, so he still wasn't needed anywhere. Like he ever had been. Feeling his temper and fearing its outcome Owen tried to distract himself with the other people in the pub. He was sitting in the middle booth on the left of the room and he had a pretty good view of everything. To his right there was a group of students laughing he vaguely heard something about spraying all the post-boxes pink for a laugh, there was a loved up couple who were wordlessly gazing into each others eyes, and then there was the bar where there was a trio of older lads getting merry and slightly pink as they drank and chatted with the bar maid. Then there was Owen.

Another groan escaped his lips, he screwed his eyes shut and buried his head in his hands. He stayed like this for a while and looked up again to see the exact same picture he had seen before. Apart from a young woman opposite him on the right of the room. Had she been there before? Probably, she was fairly bland looking and yet he carried on watching her, She too was surveying the room, her eyes darted to different areas as if looking for the regulars, _Ah maybe she works here_. But as her gaze fell onto Owen and they caught each others eye she jumped back in her seat in shock and then seemed to disappear. Or something. What? Ugh he was going mad as well. Fanbloodytastic.

After checking his mobile again Owen decided to go home. As he walked it occurred to him as to why he wasn't receiving his usually hated message of 'Torchwood'. Of course, Jack hadn't called him for work because they had Martha now. Doctor Martha Jones. He couldn't currently decide whether he liked her or disliked her. Well he was hardly going to get a message because they needed coffee, oh the look on Ianto's face when Jack suggest that's what Owen did. And then the look on his team members faces when they actually drank the coffee he had made. For gods sake he was a doctor not a coffee boy.

As Owen put the key into his flats door and walked in if it had been possible he would have had a heart attack.

"You're not a ghost." he was snubbed.

For standing in his flat was the girl from the pub. She stood in the centre of his living room watching him very closely and with curiosity.

"What the hell?!"

"You're Owen, sorry I looked about. I knew you weren't a ghost because you walked here and also you used the door. I haven't used one in years! But I thought you _were_ a ghost because you can see me and only ghosts can. And special people. I'm Jane by the way." Explained Jane quickly and rather excitedly to Owen's annoyance.'

Despite himself Owen couldn't help but chuckle, he'd thought her plain looking in the pub, plain Jane! Oh god he was being stalked by a ghost. Or haunted. Or whatever it didn't matter there was a bloody ghost in front of him.

"A ghost. You're a ghost. Aliens and now gh-"

"-what?"

"What the hell are you doing in my flat?" Owen yelled but Jane stayed very calm.

"I said I thought you might be a ghost too, you see there are hardly any of us and it's lonely _because_ there are hardly any of us and no, wait, why can you see me?"

Was this seriously happening? A ghost? This had to be a joke, no way. But Owen's own curiosity got the better of him. Why could he see her? He could guess of course. But how to explain?

"I'm dead." short and sweet.

This did seem to surprise Jane. After the initial shock of her presence Owen took her in. She was young, early twenties. Long brown hair, blue eyes, she wore a green hoody and dark jeans and still hadn't moved an inch. It was strange, he always thought that ghosts should sort of shimmer or be see through and yet she looked completely normal.

"I've only met one other person who could see me. He wasn't dead, he was special, that's why I said and special people but maybe you are special because you are dead. A zombie kind of thing."

A zombie. There, an even easier way of describing himself.

"I can see you because I'm dead. I see dead people." Owen declared. Jack would have a field day if Owen called him with this new piece of information.

But Jane smiled and yet she looked so sad. Oh. Owen remembered she said she was lonely, weren't there loads of ghosts? He'd secretly watched Most Haunted at the Hub on slow nights, Ianto had actually teased him. And again Jane started talking, not surprising if she had no-one to talk to but all Owen wanted was to be left alone.

"You know, lots of people think when you die you become a ghost and that there are loads of us but noooo, there are hardly any. I've been de-" Jane paused, recollecting herself "A ghost" she began again firmly "For years and years now and yet I've only met four! Four!" She was crying. Not wanting to seem a completely heartless git Owen slowly crept over to her, she was quite pretty actually, to comfort her he put his arm round but he went right through and he actually shivered, she was probably cold too but he couldn't tell, shivering had been like an automatic response, a reflex.

"Wh-why are you a ghost?" Owen could have kicked himself, what a ridiculous question, but then again it had been his main one.

Jane paused again, thinking. She had inched away from Owen since he'd gone through her and was now making a rather pointed effort of avoiding him and well, floating.

"I, um. It's like, the man said, this man the special one. He said people can be meant to die and not and then these things come Reapers, they come as like a punishment or something. And ghosts, we're like the reverse. We weren't meant to die but we did. He then said something about a war and before that the Time... People? They sorted it out but they're gone so there are ghosts. We're ghosts until we arrive at the point at which we were meant to, you know. Go." Jane had gotten quieter and quieter as she explained and as she finished she was hardly audible at all.

"I'm terrifying you; I'll go and uh, haunt something. Yeah?"

Despite being dead Owen was glad he wasn't a ghost, having no-one to talk to, to even acknowledge you, it must be tough.

Although Jane said she wanted to go Owen lured her into talking all night. They exchanged their life stories. He didn't see any threat in telling her about Torchwood, well she was hardly going to tell anyone. Jane had died in a fire but she assumed she was meant to die of old age. Assumed. How it was that she died but wasn't meant to was anyone's guess. Once morning came she insisted on leaving, she was a wanderer she said. But she'd visit again one day. Owen hoped she would.

The following day Owen went to the Hub even without a call. Gwen was talking to Tosh about her wedding and her bridesmaid's dresses. Hadn't Tosh been annoyed about something to do with that? Ianto was by his coffee station cleaning the cups. Nothing unusual about that. Martha Jones was in the medical bay, not working but texting her fiancé. Oh sure, she could get away with slacking but he couldn't. And Jack was in his office with Owen's records up.

"Hey Owen, I was thinking I have to say something about your condition, for the records, so I came up with a name..." Jack grinned

If it was dead or zombie Owen refused to be taken responsible for his actions towards Jack.

"Well this has never happened before so I was thinking... Owenisation?!"

It was appalling.

And yet Owen had been 'Owen' for 30 years, he'd been 'dead' for nearly a week and a 'zombie' for a day. He had to admit, being Owen was the best option he had.

"I hate it" Owen smirked and headed to the medical bay where Martha was now using the Enzovapulator wrongly.

Jack smiled as he typed listening to them bicker/flirt, Owen was back. Mostly.


End file.
